"Don't move or say anything unless I tells ye so, got it?"

Gaelan's words were scarcely a whisper as he led Aerie and Jaheira through the war camp, winding their way past the twelve-foot tall humanoids that roared battle cries and continued their siege against the city of Saradush. Aerie swallowed, her face twisting in discomfort at the continued effects on her throat of whatever it was that the Doctor had used on them. So in retrospect, Gaelan really didn't have too much to worry about as far as them giving away anything. Vocally, anyway.

Instead, Aerie simply reflected upon how damned lucky they'd been- Gaelan Bayle, here? Didn't make any sense... he hadn't been given a chance to explain his presence yet, but she was sure looking forward to it. Not that she'd look a gift horse in the mouth. From the sound of it, it seemed like the army outside was about to launch some kind of strike on the *inside* of the city- how they were planning on breaking in was still a mystery, but Gaelan seemed to know the details. He was also apparently planning on putting them at the forefront of this attack- meaning that they'd have the best chance to get inside the city. Once in... well, they obviously couldn't let the attack continue. Again, another detail that she didn't quite understand. Still, it was better than sitting in a sweltering tent, tied up and waiting to be tortured.

Gaelan licked his lips, the salty taste of sweat on his tongue as he pushed toward the tent where Minsc was being held. He had to move fast- the double-cross was about to happen, and he needed the three of them to be on the scene so they could get inside before the Saradush guard closed it up. If they could even close it. He assumed they'd have some sort of backup plan in case the wards broke and the drain was ever opened, but they'd been fighting for so long, there was a distinct chance that this might be the end of things. If so... well, ol' Gaelan had done the best he could. Besides, he was already going far and beyond the orders he'd been given from Aran.

There- he allowed himself a smile beneath his helmet as he spotted Minsc's tent, walking over to the entrance flap and gesturing roughly at Jaheira and Aerie. "You two- get in there and untie him! He'll join ye both on the front lines! We'll see how good ye actually are!"

Jaheira nodded, ducking inside with Aerie close behind- only to spy an empty tent, frayed and broken ropes surrounding the tent pole where Minsc had been bound. Jaheira frowned in confusion, then whirled at the sound of a surprised gurgle. The two women broke out of the tent, spying Gaelan's struggling form being dragged by a very irritated looking ranger behind a pile of crates and munitions, out of sight. They followed as quickly as possible, Jaheira crying out hoarsely, "Minsc... let him go-"

"Eh?" Minsc frowned as he continued to hold Gaelan's twitching form in a head-lock, the thief slapping his arm repeatedly, trying desperately to avoid dying in the ranger's crushing grip. "Jaheira? You want Minsc to let this man go? Boo says you must speak up..."

X X X X X X

"And that about sums it up." Gaelan sighed before knocking back the rest of the ale in his mug. His face twisted as he wiped his mouth, inhaling sharply. "Though the drinks in this place leave a bit to be desired, eh? Some Turmish whiskey would be nice, though I doubt they've had a chance to restock their larder what with the siege, heh..."

"No doubt." Greywulf remarked dryly, taking a moment to look at Jaheira's sunburned face with relief, holding her hand beneath the table that they were all seated at within the Tankard Tree. "So you'll forgive me for being so suspicious, but let's just say that our dealings with the Shadow Thieves have made us a bit... hesitant, to take anything on faith. You said you were sent here by Aran Linvail to keep an eye on the situation developing at Saradush, and that you just happened to find Minsc and the others outside, and just decided to help them out? That's a lot of happenstance for my blood."

Gaelan grinned back, his roguish features flickering in the torchlight of the tavern. "Sounds like you don't trust ol' Gaelan! Not that I blame ye... but I'm afraid there's little more for me to tell. Believe it as ye will, or not. Regardless, I did get yer comrades back inside the city, didn't I?" He reclined back in his chair, inwardly reflecting just how close to the truth Greywulf was. Of course there was more to it. While it was true that he had been sent to investigate the siege of Saradush and the Bhaalspawn behind it, and it had been sheer luck that the three adventurers had teleported in right before his eyes... well, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the Shadow Master had an interest in the doings of Greywulf and his little band of mercenaries.

There'd been a Shadow Thief tailing their movements every time they left the blasted elven city... no amount of skill or stealth could find their way past the elven wards concealing Suldenesselar. Still, they'd picked up the trail every time they left the safety of that city, and Gaelan had been the one in charge of tracking them. When they'd disappeared off the map after their battle with another Bhaalspawn in the elven grove, Gaelan had been reassigned to find him... and where better to look for Greywulf than in the midst of dozens of other Bhaalspawn? Saradush, to be precise.

"I would like to remind you that your help nearly got us got killed by the city guard." Aerie remarked- the only thing that had saved them from a panicked death at the hands of the militia was the timely intervention of Sarevok, Imoen, and Greywulf, pointing out that they had been helping push back the soldiers coming through the drain piping- and even then they'd probably have been taken for questioning if not for the subsequent battle to retake the valve, closing it again. It hadn't been easy- too many of the Saradush military had given their lives to drive their enemies back to the entrance of the valve where they could shut the grate and seal it again. If the fire giants had been small enough to fit inside the drain and take part in the battle, all would have been lost.

"It matters not. We are safe, and it is Bayle whom we have to thank for our rescue." Jaheira said, her voice still rough, but returning slowly. Her placating words were either an implicit indication of her trust in the thief- unlikely- or a simple sign that she was tired and wanted some rest. Regardless of which it was, there was little use, it seemed, in pressuring the silver-tongued rogue. Greywulf nodded in acceptance, standing from the table and offering Bayle a hand in gratitude.

"Fair enough. Looks like we owe you one, Gaelan. You ever need anything, just look us up."

The thief shook his hand firmly, and then grinned as he stood from the table as well. "Coo! And on that note, it looks like me job here's done and done. Got ye out of a tight spot, found out all there probably is to know about this bit of trouble- seems like Aran should be pleased."

"Good luck getting out of the city." Imoen snorted. "You might have just trapped yerself in here with us now."

"Never fear, good lass." Gaelan smirked. "Ol' Gaelan's yet to find the place that can hold him for too long. Though I fear I'll be doing my best work alone, so I doubt ye'll be seeing me again for a time. On that note, I'll be taking my leave! Good luck, one and all!"

Gaelan left, flicking his cloak with a flourish as he strode from the tavern, having long since abandoned his armor for more comfortable garb, more suited to his profession. Sarevok had remained silent for the whole of the conversation- his glowing eyes had tracked the thief from the bar, and only when he was gone did he turn to the others, his voice a low growl. "He plays the fool well, but not so well as to hide the truth. He was lying through his teeth. Surely you sensed it as well?"

"Of course." Greywulf remarked mildly. "He's good, but he's a Shadow Thief. Regardless of his ulterior motives, the important part is that the three of you are safe. And while I'd love to take a day to rest and get everyone back up to full strength..."

"The break-in." Sarevok nodded in approval. "Good that you recognize the danger."

"What are you talking about?" Imoen said with a frown, eliciting a snort of derision from the warrior.

"The attack through the drain, the one where your friends emerged from." he sneered. "The thief said as much- the grate was sealed from the inside. Only an inside man could have betrayed the city. There is a spy inside Saradush, and unless he is caught, the walls will fall sooner than we would like."

"You think we should investigate this?" Aerie asked with hesitation. "Do we have time for this? Just... from what you said before, we need to find a way into the castle. Have we made any progress on that front?"

"Glad you asked." Imoen said triumphantly, glaring at Sarevok with unhidden irritation at his attitude towards her. "There's a cleric at the Temple, Sister Farielle, who sounded like she might have some ideas on how to get inside, or at the very least, some information we could use. I was about to ask her when we got interrupted..."

"Okay, that's enough." Greywulf interrupted, hoping to avoid any conflicts before they started. Despite the sacrifice Imoen had made for Sarevok's rebirth, it was clear she wanted nothing to do with him- in fact, it seemed like the only one who remotely tolerated his presence was Greywulf. Why... well, that was a mystery to everyone, the sorcerer included. "You three have been through a lot, and I think we could do with a bit of rest before we start our investigations again. With the betrayal averted, it will be some time before whoever sold the city out tries again. Whoever it is will stay low for a bit- and I doubt that whatever this Farielle woman knows won't wait for a few hours. We can get some rooms, get a little rest, some food, then hit it again afterwards. Maybe not a full day's worth, but I think eight hours will do us all some good."

Sarevok frowned, his brow furrowing at the sorcerer's words. "And risk being overwhelmed by the army outside or annihilated by a catapult, simply because you wanted to take a nap? A foolish mistake, one you might not live to regret."

"It's not up for debate, Sarevok." Greywulf said, gritting his teeth. Sarevok got under his skin far too easily as of late- why couldn't this blasted man just accept orders when he gave them?

"Really? I had thought you a leader who let the dogs following him to bark their say into the decision making too." Sarevok shot back, a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth.

"I happen to think it's a good idea-" Aerie began, before Greywulf raised a hand, staring Sarevok down with steel in his eyes. "I said it's *not* up for debate. Now you either get in line and stop questioning every decision I make, or you can get your sorry ass out of this group right now. Got it?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence at the table and every hand was tense, ready to draw their weapons or summon their magics if Sarevok's pride demanded a battle between siblings. After a breathless few seconds, the Deathbringer nodded in acquiescence, shrugging lightly. "Very well. As you would have it. I shall make arrangements for my own room."

He stood from the table, armor shifting loudly, then walked to the barman, leaving the others behind. Greywulf glared at his brother as he paid for his room, then disappeared up the stairs; Imoen looked back to Greywulf and grinned, thumbing in the direction Sarevok had left. "Wow... didn't think you had it in ya, Greywulf. Told him off good... maybe he'll just sulk in there for a few hours and give us some peace, huh?"

"Maybe..." Greywulf murmured, though he couldn't help but feel, from the look on Sarevok's face as he had left, that somehow, some way, his brother had scored a victory of sorts.

X X X X X X

"C'mere, it's not going to hurt that much."

"N-no, I really think I can take care of it myself, thank you..."

"Now don't be a big baby. Let me see it."

"I am not being a big baby! And I am perfectly capable of handling this myself."

"Is that why you keep holding it funny? Just give me a second with it, that's all I need-"

"Imoen, don't you dare come any closer with that thing-"

Aerie darted across the room with Imoen right behind her, holding a small threading needle in one hand with an exasperated look on her face. The Avariel turned to see Imoen tuck the needle back in a pouch where it wouldn't poke her- then proceed to vault over the bed and tackle Aerie, sending them rolling across the floor. Imoen ended up on top triumphantly, grabbing Aerie's arm with one hand and trying to hold it still while she examined her finger for the splinter she'd gotten when tied to the tentpost. Imoen squinted as she tried to hold the Avariel still, trying to locate the tiny annoyance- she yelped in surprise as a small wave of magic sent her flying onto the bed, bouncing once as Aerie scrambled to her feet, holding her afflicted hand gingerly, though her wary glare never left Imoen.

"I said I'll take care of it... I just don't like needles, that's all..."

"It's just a threading needle!" Imoen sighed in exasperation as she curled back up to a proper position, knees tucked to her chest, chin resting on her knees. "C'mon... I got splinters all the time from doing dumb stuff back in Candlekeep. I'm an expert at getting them out, honest!"

"And I believe you..." Aerie muttered, before inhaling sharply and fixing her most defiant glare at Imoen as she stood to her utmost height. "But *I* will get this out. Without your help. Thank you."

Unfortunately, the sight of Aerie's most defiant glare really did nothing more for Imoen than make her seem that much more cute, and so the moment Aerie's gaze left Imoen, the thief-mage shouted a Power Word, and Aerie found herself stuck to the ground, unable to move. Her eyes flashed up to Imoen with the look of shock- Imoen tsked as she took out her needle again and walked to Aerie's side, raising her frozen arm and extending the finger that was in pain. "Oh c'mon... if I wasn't above doing this to Greywulf in that weird Pocket Plane, didja think I wouldn't do it you here? Now, for that nasty little guy..."

Imoen stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she squinted, gently using the needle to probe and poke, trying to get the lodged shard of wood from Aerie's fingertip... Imoen winced as a tiny bead of red blossomed from the Avariel's finger, but at the tip of the needle was the offending particle. She brightened with the small victory, holding it up for Aerie to see as the spell lost effect, letting Aerie move again, immediately putting her finger in her mouth, quenching the insignificant flow of blood. "Told ya I'd get it! Now, arent'cha glad you let me help you?"

"I don't think I let you do anything..." Aerie said, glancing at her finger before folding her arms in irritation. "How Greywulf put up with you growing up I don't think I'll ever know..."

"Hehehehe...." Imoen laughed, jumping back to fall on the bed, pink strands of hair flying all over her face. She sputtered and waved her hands madly to remove the offending locks from her vision before meeting Aerie's rapidly softening gaze again. "Meh. Greywulf and me got along just fine, thank you. Except for that time when I rewrote his essay that he had to recite to Gorion and the monks... I watched from the back of the room, and as soon as he hit the spots that I'd 'revised,' his face got so red..." Imoen laughed at the memory, her chortles gradually devolving into small snorts of amusement. "Greywulf couldn't finish the essay, that much was sure... not with what I'd given him, and definitely not in front of Gorion or Val Hurst."

"What did you change it to?" Aerie asked with a hint of hesitation, half-certain she didn't want to know, but still dying to hear the rest of the story.

"Hmph." Imoen stopped, folding her arms as she lay on the bed, a sudden sense of pouting entering her tone. "I don't know if I should tell you the rest. You did throw me across the room, after all..."

Aerie's jaw nearly dropped, trying to sputter a defense. "But I- you... you froze me with a Power Word, and I told you that I didn't want any help, but you just kept on going and-"

Imoen's renewed laughs were enough to spur the flummoxed Avariel into action- a flying leap from the elf landed squarely atop Imoen, and despite the petite girl's weight, Imoen still found the strength to laugh as the two friends wrestled one another, all thoughts and worries banished from their minds for a time, however short it may have been.

X X X X X X

The sound of girlish cries and the thumping of bodies hitting the floor and walls made Greywulf smile wryly as he sat on the chair across from the bed in the room- Jaheira had departed to use the baths that the inn offered below. From her account of their experience as captives, they'd been treated rather poorly- not as bad as when Irenicus had held them, but unpleasant to be sure. Her finger was still swollen from the injury inflicted upon her by their torturer, and even after some healing by Aerie, the extremity wasn't exactly feeling great. Still, covered in soot, dust, and sweat, the druid had taken her leave for the moment to get herself resembling something human again. Or half-elf, rather.

Greywulf snorted at his own mental joke, mentally pondering whether it might be good for him too- no, joining Jaheira at the baths might be tempting, but he sincerely doubted that either of them would get much cleaning done together, and besides... he was trying to give her some distance. Perhaps he wasn't quite as keen at sensing people's emotions and thoughts as she was, but he could tell when she was uncomfortable... bothered. And lately, whenever he tried to get too close, tried to talk about their status as engaged, more specifically... she pulled back. Changed the subject. Perhaps it had been foolish of him to ask for her hand in marriage while they were hunting Irenicus in Hell, but at the time...

He sighed, unsure of what to say or do. Not that he had any business stressing over his love life right now- there was far too much that rested on their shoulders to be distracted right now... and yet, pushing all of his own worries and troubles out of his head was proving to be quite impossible. It was times like this he was both blessed and cursed by his companions... they kept him grounded, kept him tied to the things that he was fighting to hold on to... and they distracted him, kept him from putting all his effort and energy into what needed to be done. A sacrifice, but not one he would ever give up. Maybe that made him selfish. Well... screw it. He was selfish then.

Jaheira, his lover. Imoen, his sister. Sarevok... he exhaled sharply, trying to calm his emotions, still fueled from their earlier conversation. He was rapidly losing patience with the man, though he couldn't find it within himself to simply cast the man off. Why... he had no idea. The others would most certainly be fine with any decision from him to send the Deathbringer on his own way. But... but there was something compelling about his brother, something that made him hold onto him. Something inviting? Appealing?

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. There was a thought that made no sense- what could possibly appeal to Greywulf about Sarevok. He was a brute, a monster that killed without remorse, and was directly responsible, if it were to be traced back to that first time on the road, to all of the suffering Greywulf had endure over the past few years. He was worthy of nothing but spite, hatred, and death...

"We could kill him, you know..."

Greywulf's whole body jolted as he opened his mouth, blinking wildly as he looked for the source of the demonic voice he had just heard... but he knew there would be no speaker in the room. No... the speaker was inside him, and he knew just who those smooth, rapturous tones belonged to. Inviting, seductive... the taint within. The Slayer. It had been months since he had heard that voice- not since he had regained his soul. He'd thought that once he was restored, the Slayer would be suppressed again, once more firmly in check and unable to run free among the corridors of his mind. Apparently, he was mistaken... better he find out now, then later while in the midst of battle, where he might be tempted to give away control.

The sound of footsteps by the door got his attention and he stood to his feet as Jaheira entered, her hair still damp from the baths, but dressed in her leathers and tunic. She'd left her armor and weapons here- with the exception of her elven dagger, which she rarely let leave her side. Greywulf had often wondered if she slept with it under her pillow- after they'd shared a bed the first time, he'd gotten his answer. And it was a resounding yes.

"I appreciate the attention, but this is hardly a military regiment." Jaheira remarked as she walked past Greywulf, the sorcerer only now noticing that he was still standing at attention the moment she'd entered. "I still recommend a trip downstairs... at least if you intend to join me under clean sheets tonight."

"Clean? Have you looked at this room? The city is under siege, remember... keeping their sheets clean probably isn't high on their to-do list." Greywulf quipped, poking the bed with a wrinkled brow.

Jaheira rolled her eyes and poked Greywulf gently in the chest, pursing her lips. "You know what I mean. I-"

The sound of laughter and another particularly loud bump in the room over resounded loudly, and Jaheira snorted in derision. "I doubt either of them will get much rest, paired in the same room. I cannot say it surprises me, though..."

"I suppose we could try convincing one of them to sleep in... oh, I don't know... Minsc's room? He's gotten a lot better about snoring, y'know." Greywulf suggested with a shrug, but the connotations of the idea were not lost on the druid, who arched an eyebrow with a wry smile. Greywulf glared playfully, "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. Though Aerie and Minsc have shown a great deal of admiration for one another..."

She walked to the bed, sitting down and undoing the laces of her boots as she replied, "You are right. They complement each other quite well... though I doubt Minsc would ever consider acting on anything he felt for Aerie. He holds himself far too strictly as her guardian to allow anything other than that to take place. Aside from that, it would mean that someone else would be forced to room with Sarevok, and I doubt there is another amongst us with the temperament to stand his infernal goads and taunts."

"Right..." Greywulf paused a moment, then looked at Jaheira, hoping to find some kind of wisdom, some kind of answer in her features. "I don't know... I don't know why he's still here. With us, I mean. He's arrogant, rude, evil, and would kill us in a second if he thought it would provide him a better opportunity for power. And yet... I'm keeping him here with us. Why?"

"You are asking me this?" Jaheira asked incredulously, pausing as she pulled her bare foot from the boot it had been in, sitting up straight again to meet his gaze. "Are you having second thoughts about the wisdom of keeping that monster at our side? If so, I should say you are finally coming to your senses."

"I never thought it was a smart thing to do..." Greywulf defended himself quietly, "Besides... you said you'd be around to rescue me from when this blew up in my face. I happen to like strong women who can rescue me, rather than the other way around."

"Is that so?" Jaheira asked with an arched eyebrow, as she ran one hand across the bed sheets between them, coming to his body and beginning to run up his side- the dust that her fingers had riled up caused him to sneeze, ruining both the oncoming moment and any attempts at resurrecting their former conversation.

Jaheira shook her head wryly, then frowned as she followed suit, sneezing before looking at the dust billowing from the sheets."By Silvanus, this place is filthy."

"Told you." Greywulf shrugged as he fought the urge to sneeze. The dust really was quite unbearable at times. "No point in taking a bath now. I'd just get dirty again."

Jaheira stopped, eyeing him with a hint of disbelief. "Tell me you did not just make that excuse. The last time I heard those words, they came from the mouth of a six year old."

"I never claimed to be mature, either." Greywulf sniffed, folding his arms. "And besides, you prove my point. You just took a bath, and you're all dusty again. A waste of time."

He laughed as a dust-covered pillow hit his face, and before long they were both sneezing again.

X X X X X X

Finally alone, or as close to it as he would get for now. Quiet, giving his thoughts time to gather and collect... or at least, quiet without the incessant sound of the ranger's snores that ripped across the room. He was surprised the wallpaper didn't rip off from the echoes. Sarevok briefly considered killing the man, but decided against it, even though he was sure that his reasons would be upheld by anyone else forced to listen to this kind of torturous sound.

No... enough wrath. Time to put it down, put it away... he needed to be calm, to be at peace. Sarevok inhaled sharply, closed his eyes, and began meditating, drawing his own consciousness inward, blocking everything else out. It was a technique he had learned as a young man- something to block the constant urge for blood that had plagued him when he had been a Bhaalspawn. It was why so many of the god-children were nothing more than petty murderers, found out by their sins, and killed by the fearful cowards of the town or city where they plied the trade of their lineage. It was easy... too easy, to let the taint control you. To take control of the taint... now that was a talent. Something both he and Greywulf had done. Even their annoying sister had managed to take hold of her blood power... to a point. She hadn't let it into her life enough yet... she was still fighting with all her might to keep that part of her buried beneath all the sugar and charm and sweetness... but he saw what was lurking down there.

Sarevok smiled, letting the knowledge of what he had witnessed under Imoen's facade of joy and cheer when she had given up part of her soul for his rebirth. There was darkness... darkness and power. The Slayer was far closer to the surface that the girl would ever have dreamed. Still, it was not she that continued to demand his attention- it was Greywulf who he had chosen to focus his efforts upon. Greywulf who walked the knife's edge of the taint, having harnessed the power while yet remaining unbound by its demands. A state he himself had only achieved for a time... near the end of his mortal life, Sarevok had known what was happening. He knew that he had been driven mad by the power of the taint; he knew that he had lost control and given himself over to simple bloodlust, become a mindless engine of destruction in the Undercity of Baldur's Gate.

It was mistake he would never be able to correct, but it was also a mistake he could keep Greywulf from making. One of many mistakes. Like clinging to the example that Imoen was setting in her unflagging resistance to the taint. He felt a sneer cross his face, but he quickly controlled it, trying to return to the state of peace he'd need to proceed with his plans. The wrath he'd felt from Greywulf earlier... good. His goads and taunts were beginning to get to the sorcerer. He knew it would only be a matter of time. He had to show him that his way was the right way... that only by unleashing the full power of the taint, by taking control of his blood and using it could he succeed. It was a fine line, of course- push Greywulf too far, and he might actually push back. He didn't want that... well, a part of him did, but that part also wanted to burst into his brother's room right now and attempt to slaughter him without mercy. It was a portion of him he'd kept suppressed for a while, and for many reasons- not least of which was the acceptance that in a one-on-one battle between he and his brother... he wasn't sure who would be the victor. If he had his old armor with the magic-resistant runes, perhaps it might have been... no. It was pointless to dwell on old grudges... not when there was so much in the future to look forward to.

But to succeed, he had to keep up the facade. Had to convince Greywulf that his words and actions were no more than mere bitterness and anger, that he had no ulterior motives. That each time he baited him, he was simply doing it to get a rise out of his brother. Greywulf could not suspect, for now at least, that he had any more intention than to simply gain power at his side. He could not know that not only would Sarevok gain power... but it would be at Greywulf's side. The truth of course, was right in plain sight, for how could Sarevok gain the power of Bhaal without the aid of his brother? But for now... he would simply watch and play the bully, play the devil, to keep the others from looking too deep into his words. They could have no clue that Sarevok was slowly showing Greywulf why he needed the taint... why he needed to embrace it and accept it, and eventually, he would see the truth. Besides... as much as he hated to admit it, the battle of wits between them, the battle Greywulf didn't even know he was fighting, was turning into a good one. His size and his build was an advantage in more ways than one- his enemies on the battlefield were intimidated by what they saw, and made his abilities as a Deathbringer that much more effective. His enemies off the battlefield were lulled into a sense of security by what they didn't see- the keen, charismatic, clever mind that lurked beneath all that muscle and those glowing yellow eyes. He hadn't become the Duke of Baldur's Gate through strength of arms alone. He'd made back-room bargains, cut deals, and negotiated with the best of them. All in all, he was not a man to be trifled with. Not a man to be disrespected.

Perhaps that was why, in the end, he had been shaken so much by Greywulf's comment about Tamoko. Her name could still inspire both a furious rage within him... and an ache in his heart. She'd betrayed him, left him... and maybe, in the end, been part of why his brother was so close to claiming the Throne of Bhaal and not him. But for all his attempts to rid himself of the feelings he'd held for her, he could not deny that he had, with all of his heart, loved that woman. And for a time, when he had thought she was slain by Greywulf and his companions on their way to him, he'd simply filed that under another of the grievances he'd simply have to put aside if he was to gain power at his brother's side. But to hear that they hadn't killed her- that she'd simply... left. That she'd been killed by others, that her association with him was what had done her in... no. He couldn't go down this path. Sorrow led to grief. Grief led to guilt. Guilt... that led to remorse, and that was a weakness he would not, could not feel.

The Throne of Bhaal was in sight... and even if it was only by proxy, the power of Bhaal would still be his to command. If Greywulf were to truly become the new Lord of Murder... he would need enforcers, mortals to whom would be entrusted the duty of spreading the news of rebirth, given great and terrible powers to use for the glory of Bhaal-reborn. That... would be a duty he would relish.

Sarevok smiled, letting himself fade out of his meditations, to return to the world around, letting himself go once more- only to find, as he opened his eyes again, that he was staring into a pair of glinting black eyes, belonging to one hamster that was perched on the bedside table next to Minsc's sleeping form. Sarevok growled, expecting the hamster to scurry back into wherever it was that it hid during battle, but it simply remained there, its gaze unblinking and never moving from Sarevok. The Deathbringer remained fixed on the rodent... until he finally came to the realization that he was having a staring contest with Boo, and simply swore, waking Minsc up abruptly. "Eh? What is going on here, Boo?"

"Ranger! Turn your rodent's gaze another direction! I will not be scrutinized as though by some ridiculous divining rod!" he spat, the hamster finally looking away from Sarevok in favor of snuffling over to Minsc's outstretched hand.

Minsc smiled as Boo's whiskers tickled his fingers, but he turned back to Sarevok with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Boo is an uncanny judge of character, but you... you give him trouble."

The ridiculousness of the conversation was beginning to wear on Sarevok- how Greywulf put up with this man's insanity was beyond comprehension. "I shall give your rodent more than that if he continues! I nearly conquered a nation! I shall not be judged by a creature that stores nuts in its cheeks!"

If it were possible for a hamster to look miffed, Boo would seem to have taken offense to that last comment. As it was, Minsc shrugged and glanced back down at Boo. "Food storage aside, Boo controls himself much better than you do. Do you see him ranting about mere glances? Let's look."

"What?" Sarevok blinked.

"There, you see? No rant." Minsc said proudly, watching as Boo crawled onto the bed with him, crossing over to the opposite side of the pillow. "In fact, right now we see him snuffling about for a comfy place to sleep. Admirable restraint."

Sarevok inhaled sharply, watching his knuckles turn white as he clenched his fists. "I am still in Hell, aren't I? This is insanity. Do *not* speak to me again, unless spoken to."

Minsc shrugged, but a pleased look crossed his face as Sarevok lied down across his bed, trying to will himself asleep so as to escape the man's ramblings. "Ah, finally a calming look across your face. Boo's handiwork, no doubt. Doesn't that feel better?"

X X X X X X

The sun was high- not perhaps, at the peak of its path, but high enough. High enough to cast a glare over every face, illuminate every traveler that entered the city of Athkatla. High enough that it would destroy any attempt at hiding in the shadows of the city, hiding his identity from the fearful inhabitants within. High enough, however, that it would be no bother to pull his hood over his head and pretend that he simply despised the sun in his eyes- which he did, true enough- and keep his identity a secret that way. The guards at the gates of the city nary gave him a second glance- their attention was on the constant line of traders and merchants bringing their wares and out, hoping to make their fortune in the legendary City of Coin.

Solaufein slipped away from the gates, pushing his way through the crowds, hoping to get some distance from the throngs of people. The more time he spent around others, the more chance there was that he could be discovered as a drow- and as he knew from both stories and experience, a drow alone was in far more danger than with a group. At the side of Greywulf and his companions, he could walk the streets of the city unhooded, if he had truly wanted. Their reputation was more than enough to survive the whispers and glances that were sent his way. Alone, now... if he wasn't careful he could be lynched, burned at the stake. He chuckled humorlessly. A bit dramatic perhaps. Surely nothing that severe would happen.

Of course, none of this would matter if he couldn't find the men and women he was searching for. He'd met with Queen Ellesime, the elven monarch. He'd spoken with her about the group he sought, and the urgency with which his mission depended. Surprisingly, the elves did not lie to him. Said they didn't know where the group was, and that they they'd stumbled onto a battle that matched the fears Solaufein had of what was awaiting his old friends. Elhan had been the eye-witness; from his words, it sounded as though the others had simply dropped off the face of Faerun, disappeared into thin air. Impossible... well, perhaps not, but highly improbable.

He let himself breathe a sigh of relief as he found himself fully immersed into the back alleys and shadows of the Slums, away from prying eyes and teeming crowds. Here he could let himself relax a bit, let himself flow into his natural element. Far easier to remain unseen to begin with, than to flee a riot with pursuers hot on your trail. He slipped from alley to alley, always in shadow, always keeping his senses on full alert for those who might discover him. For Solaufein, it was both easier and harder- easier in that his keen elven senses allowed him an advantage over the humans, but harder to trust his eyes in the full sunlight. That glare- he tugged his hood down further, wishing for time to progress just a bit quicker and evening to fall. Not that the people he was looking for would be sticking to a steady schedule of sleep or travel depending on the time of day. For the time he had traveled with them, it hadn't mattered what time it was, only when people needed rest.

There... Solaufein grinned as he spotted the dirty back of the building he was looking for. An 'unofficial base of operations,' Greywulf had called it once: The Copper Coronet. Run by Hendak, the gladiator turned owner. If the six adventurers had returned to the city, Hendak would know. It was still mid-afternoon- actually, something of an advantage. Fewer people in the tavern then. He slipped inside, letting himself be taken by the embrace of raucous noise and drunken slurs. Smoke filling the air, old vomit staining the floor, and the smell of booze thick and permeating everything. From an outsider's perspective, it looked no different than when the old owner, Lehtinan, had run the place. But to the actual attendees, to the regulars, they knew what had changed. The smoke was just from pipeweed- no more of the illegal lotus rooms. Prostitutes with customers no longer had rooms reserved for them in the back, nor were they allowed to flaunt their services from inside the Coronet. If they wanted to ply their trade and use the Coronet's rooms for it, they paid just like everyone else, and they got their customers somewhere else. The slaving pits... that hardly needed to be mentioned. It wasn't a classy bar, and it certainly wasn't a place to bring one's mum. But Hendak ran it clean and above the table. He had the guts to take something rotten that had owned his life and turn it into something respectable. Solaufein respected him like few other surfacers.

He made his way to the bar, nodding to Bernard as he cleaned the perpetually dirty counter with his perpetually stained cloth, and greeted Hendak with a tight smile and a firm handshake. "Ah... my dark friend, it is good to see you again. It has been some time, no?"

"It has." Solaufein replied to the blonde haired, blue eyed Northman. "I'm looking for Greywulf and the others. Have they been here recently?"

"More recently than you, but not in the past few days, no." Hendak shook his head, his proud features knitting as he unfolded his broad, muscular arms and stood up straight, his impressive height outdoing that of Solaufein's. "Is there something wrong? A favor, perhaps, that you need from them?"

"Not exactly..." Solaufein murmured, glancing behind him, a habit he'd picked up since arriving on the surface. One could never be too careful, after all...

"Oy... strange that you should mention them, though." Bernard remarked, spitting on the bar and wiping it clean with his rag. Perhaps that was why both counter and rag were so dirty all the time. "You ain't the first to come in and inquire about Miss Jaheira and them others. There were another feller, one of them Radiant Heart sorts who came in just this morning. He was looking for them as well. Recognized him though... er, Ani something, I think. I'm horrible with names, so ye'll have to excuse me. Think he traveled with them for a bit after you left to... well, wherever it was ye went."

"Where is he?" Solaufein asked, his interest piqued. If this man, this knight, had seen the others after he'd left their company, perhaps he could find out just where they'd been, trace their steps up to when Elhan said they vanished by way of magic. If he knew how they got to that point... well, perhaps he'd know where they were headed.

"Ye can find the man up at the balcony floor- why I think he's looking at us right now! Oy! Got a man down here wants to talk to you, sir!"

"Ah! A man with enough strength and courage to take up the task I've set then, eh?" his excited, accented voice drifted back down to them, and Bernard looked confused for a moment, before wincing with embarrassment. " 'Fraid I forgot to fill him in on the bit you told me to mention, sir... beg yer apology."

Anomen Delryn shook his head with a sigh, wondering why, of all places, he was once again in the Copper Coronet- except that this time, he was the one seeking out mercenaries. Life had a funny way of turning around like that- whoever said the gods didn't have a sense of humor didn't know what he was talking about.